


Wonderful Life

by krikkiter68



Category: The Thick Of It
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Melancholy, F/M, Fluff, Innuendo, M/M, Melancholy, Sexual References, christmas cooking, explicit cuddling, non explicit smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8927830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krikkiter68/pseuds/krikkiter68
Summary: My Christmas story.  It's Christmas, but Malcolm is feeling sad about the events of 2016.  It's up to Jamie to cheer him up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Contains references to deaths in 2016, so approach Chapter 1 with caution if you're feeling sad right now. It will get happier. xx

It was 6.20 on Christmas morning, and the sky was still as blue as midnight. Jamie, naked, spooned up behind Malcolm in Malcolm's huge double bed and gently nibbled at the shell of his left ear.

"Merry Christmas, Malc," he murmured, slowly grinding his crotch against Malcolm's warm, firm buttocks, "fancy some, do ye?"

Malcolm didn't answer. Undeterred, Jamie slid a palm down his older lover's slim, sparsely-haired chest.

"Fancy seein' what's in yer stocking?" he husked. "Top of the fuckin' range. Plenty of fun for both of us. Ye'll love it."

He ran his hand down to Malcolm's crotch. Then the corners of his mouth turned down.

"Malc? What's fuckin' wrong with ye?"

"Jamie. I'm...not in the mood right now, OK? Could ye just...cuddle me fer a bit? Thanks, love," Malcolm whispered, in a voice that seemed to have no breath behind it.

Jamie pressed his face into the soft, fragile skin of Malcolm's neck, embracing him from behind.

"Want tae tell me all about it?" he whispered.

"Just thinkin'. I havenae really slept. Just...Christ, this fuckin' shite year. Don't need tae tell ye all the fuckin' events, we know 'em well enough. An' all the bright, shining talent that's gone. Bowie. Rickman. Wood. Aherne. Prince. Ali. Wilder. Yelchin. Cohen. Sachs...Christ, the list just goes on an' fuckin' on."

Jamie kissed the back of Malcolm's neck.

"Aye, know what ye mean. Ye're not feelin' festive are ye?"

"Ye can fuckin' say that again," Malcolm snorted, quietly.

"Why don't we just lie here fer a bit," Jamie murmured.

Malcolm let out a little huffing sigh as Jamie rocked him gently back and forth. As he went on, he felt Malcolm's slim form gradually relaxing, heard his breath slowing, and within a few minutes Malcolm had fallen deeply asleep, his chest gently rising and falling.

Jamie nodded to himself, carefully disentangled his limbs from Malcolm's sleeping torso, dressed silently and padded from the bedroom, mobile in hand. He switched on the kitchen light, wincing in the glare, and started frantically texting.


	2. Chapter 2

10.00am

The doorbell sounded. Jamie, crouching by the cooker wearing a black T shirt and jeans, stood and stomped off on bare feet to answer the door.

A woman, dark bobbed hair fluttering in the breeze, dark blue coat and black boots stood in the doorway, a very large, full canvas bag clenched in her right fist.

"Hello. You must be Jamie," she said politely. "I'm Nicola."

"Aye. Nice tae meet ye at long last," Jamie said.

"I've heard so much about you," she said carefully.

"Bet ye fuckin' have. I've certainly heard shitloads about ye," Jamie said, ushering her in.

"OK. I suppose I just walked into that one," Nicola said, closing the door.

 

Jamie crouched down by the oven again and gazed mournfully through the glass door.

"How long is this fuckin' thing gonna take, Nic'la?" he asked.

"It's a big turkey, Jamie. A while yet."

"Ye're tellin' me it's fuckin' big. It's the size of a fuckin' ostrich. I had tae take the fuckin' shelves out to fit it in." He thumped the side of the oven in frustration.

"It's all right, Jamie. I've brought all the potatoes and vegetables you could possibly need,"

Jamie smacked his forehead with his palm.

"Fuck! Vegetables! How the fuck could I forget them, Nic'la?"

She patted his arm. He flinched slightly.

"Because you're not used to doing this, Jamie. It just takes practice. I've done it many, many times before, and I still forget something every year. But, as they used to say on Blue Peter, here's one I prepared earlier," Nicola said.

She reached into the big canvas bag on the floor, drew out one of the Tupperware boxes and clicked it open with a flourish. The delicious aroma of roasted parsnips filled the air.

"Parsnips, roast potatoes, roasted sprouts, stuffing, peas, carrots, Yorkshire pudding. We can take the turkey out once it's done and reheat everything else in the oven. There's three types of gravy in the Thermos flasks. Plus extra ones for the bread sauce and the cranberry sauce. I can't see the point of them myself, but people seems to like them."

"Fuck me," Jamie said, moved, "Gravy as well. That's amazin'. Thanks, love. How did ye know..."

"I cooked it all this morning," Nicola said, colour rising in her cheeks. "Then James, that absolute bastard son of a - "

"Aye. Yer husband. Heard all about him too. Go on."

" - walked out of the house after I suggested he could give me a hand with it. Thanks for that text, Jamie. Without it, I'd just have masses of food to eat, alone."

"Don't fuckin' mention it. What did ye do with the turkey?" Jamie said, staring balefully at the mass in the oven.

"It's still in the freezer. I just couldn't be bothered cooking it. Life's too short, isn't it?" Nicola said.

"Aye," Jamie said, nodding, "I'll fuckin' drink tae that."

He walked over to the fridge and wrenched the door open.

"Fuck," he hissed, "there's nae booze, and the offy's gonna be closed! What am I going tae do?!"


	3. Chapter 3

10.10am

The doorbell rang again, and Jamie trotted off to answer it. He opened it to see Julius standing on the doorstep, smartly dressed in a three-piece suit, black frock coat, and, to Jamie's wide, astonished eyes, a tall, black silk top hat.

"Julius!" he gasped. "What the fuck d'ye look like?"

Julius smiled enigmatically.

"And my warmest compliments of the season to you, too, James. I do enjoy dressing up at this time of year. It's great larks! It gives the occasion a somewhat Dickensian bent, wouldn't you say?"

Jamie scowled, biting back his instinctive reply. Julius gestured towards the black Rolls-Royce ticking on the kerb.

"Thank you for your text. I think I may have solved your dilemma, James."

On cue, a man in a smart uniform disembarked from the driver's seat, opened the boot and started unloading crates of very expensive wine and beer.

"Where should I put these, sir?" the man called out.

"Take them through the door and into the kitchen please, Horace," he said. "I'll help you."

"Aye," Jamie said, "me too. Wow. Thanks, Julius."

"And how is the pulchritudinous Malcolm?" Julius asked, as the three of them carried crate after crate of bottles inside.

"That - that's not even a fuckin' word!" Jamie spluttered. "I know ye fuckin' fancy him, though, so keep yer manicured mitts off!"

"He won't even look at me, James, as you well know," Julius said, unfazed. "You're a lucky man, indeed."


	4. Chapter 4

11.00am

The doorbell rang. Jamie put down his wine glass.

"'Scuse me, guys," he said to Julius and Nicola, "Gotta answer that. Fuckin' behave yerselves while I'm gone."

"Yes, I think we can manage that, thank you, Jamie," Nicola said.

Jamie stomped off to answer the door, leaving Nicola and Julius chatting away as if they'd known each other for years. He opened it to see Glenn, Robyn and, slightly to his surprise, Terri, standing in the doorway. It had turned much colder; they were warmly wrapped up, their breath frosting in mid-air, and each of them carried bulging canvas bags full of cake tins.

"Merry Christmas, Jamie," Glenn said. "Thanks for your text. Julius and Nicola let us know what they were bringing, so we though we'd supply the cakes and mince pies." 

"We made the cake together, didn't we, darling?" Robyn said, looking up at Glenn. Jamie noticed for the first time they were holding hands.

"What...what's this? Ye're a fuckin' couple, now?" he said, eyebrows dancing.

"Well, yes, we are, Jamie. People do get together from time to time!" Glenn said, exasperated.

"Nah. Fuckin' pleased for ye both. Really, I am. An' ye, Terri? Not seen ye fer a long time?" Jamie said. His cheeks were flushed. Perhaps it was because of the glass of wine he had just had, but he was beginning to feel genuinely touched by his colleagues' kindness.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jamie," Terri said. "I've brought an M&S, Nigella-recipe Christmas pudding. They had a great two-for-one offer. I was going to give one to Peter Mannion, but they wouldn't take it for him in Reception. Security concerns, apparently. So, I thought I'd bring it along. I've brought the cream and brandy butter, too."

"Great," Jamie said, "won't ye all come in? It's fuckin' cold out here."


	5. Chapter 5

Midday

The doorbell rang. Jamie, sitting on the living room carpet, took another swig of wine, threw the dice for the next round of Trivial Pursuit, then stood, excused himself to the others, and walked off to answer it. He opened it to see Ollie standing at the door, wearing a large green cable-knit jumper, jeans and trainers and holding a large carrier bag. Ollie visibly gulped at the sight of Jamie in front of him. And then his fine eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline as Jamie hugged him.

"Merry Christmas, Poxbridge!" Jamie shouted.

"Umm. Thanks, Jamie. You too," Ollie said, gazing down, bemused, at the sight of Jamie's black curls against his chest.

"Good tae see ye, twat," Jamie murmured, into wool.

"Uh. What's - what's brought this on? You're the man who threatened to push an I-pod up my cock!" Ollie said, heart beating fast.

"Oh, well, water under the fuckin' bridge. 'Plus, I'm a bit pished. And it's Christmas," Jamie said.

"Right. The usual reasons, then."

 

"What ye got fer me, then?" Jamie said, standing in the kitchen.

"Didn't know what else to bring, so I brought some whiskey. You - you do both like whiskey, don't you?"

"What, 'cos we're Scottish? Nae stereotyping there, eh? Actually, we do. So, thanks, Love Actually."

"And," Ollie said, reaching into the bag, "I'd bought some Christmas fairy lights and Christmas crackers for Emma and I, but...well. That's fucking dead in the water, now."

"Fairy lights! Fuckin' forgot tae put those up, too. Malc was too busy and I can't fuckin' reach the curtain rail. Had a stepladder, but it wouldn't unfold, an' I kicked the shit out it and it won't work, now."

"I could reach," Ollie said. "I could put them up for you."

"Ah, thanks," Jamie said, grinning. "What d'ye know? Ye may be a long lanky streak of piss, but ye have yer uses!"

"Thanks, Jamie. I'll take that as a compliment."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays, everyone! :)
> 
> krikky xxx

Malcolm woke, eyes dazzled by a shaft of sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains. Fuck me, he thought, I've overslept. Haven't done that since I was 16. I must have been tired.

A wave of laughter from downstairs puzzled him. Guests? he thought. I don't remember us inviting any guests. He went to the chest of drawers, pulled out some clothes and started dressing.

As he headed down the stairs, a wave of delicious cooking scents assailed his nostrils, and he heard Julius' cultured tones:

"It's definitely cooked through, yes. Time to serve up. Do you want to carve, Jamie?"

"Aye! Best fuckin' thing about Christmas, carving the fucker!"

They all froze at the sight of him standing on the stairs, hair mussed, unshaven, resplendent in his soft grey jumper, trousers and socks. Then the doorbell rang.

"Don't move," Malcolm said, "I'll fuckin' get it."

He walked to the door and opened it. Sam, wrapped up in a gorgeous cranberry-red cashmere coat, was standing in the doorway, her smile outshining the sun. He beamed back at her.

"Sammy, love! Good tae see yer!" he said as they hugged.

 

7.00pm Malcolm polished off another mince pie and looked around contentedly. Glenn and Robyn were sleeping on the sofa, Robyn's blonde hair fanning across Glenn's reindeer pattered jumper. Terri was slumped beside them, snoring quietly. Sam, Julius and Nicola were slumbering peacefully in separate armchairs, Julius' top hat now at a comically rakish angle. Ollie, too, was sleeping, sat on the floor and propped against Nicola's armchair, his head nestled in her lap. Jamie took Malcolm's hand in his.

"Think it's time to leave these wee babies to fuckin' sleep," he said, quietly. Grinning, he took his phone from his pocket and took a picture of them all.

"Could do with a fuckin' nap myself," Malcolm said. "Shall we go up?"

In their bedroom, they undressed and snuggled up together under the duvet, warm, fed, tipsy and contented.

"D'ye want tae see what's in your stocking?" Jamie murmured,

"It can wait," Malcolm murmured back, squeezing his hand.

"Didnae get any batteries fer it, anyway," Jamie said. "I'll get some when the shops open tomorrow."

"Mmm. Time tae sleep. What d'ye think to a film, later? 'It's a Wonderful Life'?"

"Aye, it is. I love ye, sweetheart," Jamie whispered, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I love ye, too. Always."


End file.
